


PowerPlay

by SaintHeretical



Series: Reylo Eh! [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (really they're both switches), Alternate Universe - Canada, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Dominant Rey, F/M, Face-Sitting, Feelings, Hockey, Pegging, Quebecois Cursewords, Submissive Kylo Ren, oh gosh so many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 23:10:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17969831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintHeretical/pseuds/SaintHeretical
Summary: “Ahhh, I see,” she says with an over exaggerated sigh. “The reason you can’t sit down is because you’ve got a giant stick shoved up your ass.”His lips thin. “If you don’t shut up, by the end of the night you’re going to find something else shoved up your ass.”“Is that a threat or a promise?”“It can be either. Up to you.”Even though she could only afford one cup, and she’s sure it’s heavily watered down, Rey swears it’s the beer talking when she blurts out, “Let’s make a bet.” She yanks her finger from his fist and pokes the appliquéd Canadiens logo on his chest. “You guys win, you can do the shoving. My guys win,I’mthe one doing the shoving.”randomized prompts:NHL (Canadiens vs Leafs)andPegging





	PowerPlay

**Author's Note:**

> This is hopefully part one in a series where I draw 2 random prompts, one Canadian and one trope/sex act, and somehow make a fic out of them.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“HEY ASSHOLE! DOWN IN FRONT!”

It’s the last Habs-Leafs game of the regular season and, by some act of God, Rey managed to win two tickets in a radio contest by singing Stompin’ Tom with a bad Quebecois accent.  _ Stupidly _ , she decided to attend instead of hawking them on Facebook, and now all she’s been staring at for the last period has been the backside of one absurdly tall and broad Habs fan standing right up against the glass. 

It’s an okay backside, she supposes, as far as guy butts in baggy jeans go, but she did not drag her ass (and Finn’s as well) to Bell Centre on a Thursday night in minus twenty weather just to pay fifteen bucks for seven french fries, $12.75 for a dixie cup of watery beer, and stare at some loser’s butt all night. 

Chewing the corner of her lip, she takes aim then flings an soggy french fry two rows ahead, where it majestically clips the ear of the aforementioned asshole standing with his two equally tall asshole friends. Despite her efforts, the fry and her yell are both ignored, swallowed by the general euphoria of the crowd. 

“Ugh.” She slumps down in her chair and reaches for the snack sized bag of ketchup chips she managed to sneak in her winter coat. Her fingers graze only crumbs. Desperate, she ignores the wails of her taste buds and takes a bite out of another cold fry. “Tall people should be banned from the front row.”

Finn just stares at her, eyes wide. “You do realize that you almost got yourself killed, right? Those guys could  _ eat  _ us.”

“I think one of them’s a girl.”

“You say that like it matters.” He frowns. “ _ First _ you thought it would be a good idea to go to this game, despite the fact that you’re a month behind on your rent.”

“And I invited you to come with, so...you’re welcome.” Rey accents her words with the tip of a fry.

“ _ Then _ you found us Leafs jerseys to wear. You don’t even like the Leafs!”

“I thought it would be funny!”

He gestures at the two of them, and then waves his arms at the crowd. They’re a speck of white and blue in a writhing, passionate sea of red that’s getting drunker by the second. “Does this look funny to you?”

“It’s a game, Finn! We have tickets; we’re allowed here just as much as the rest of them. Plus there’s other Leafs fans here.” She gestures to a tiny cluster of white up in the nosebleeds across from them.

Finn squints, then shakes his head. “Those are just Habs fans in away jerseys.”

“Fine,” Rey mutters. “Maybe we are the only—“

Suddenly, the crowd roars with approval. Rey sees a pair of gloves go flying across the ice, and then numbers 13 and 11 collide into each other with the force of an exploding sun. Dudebros of all ages jump to their feet, beer sloshing over the edges of their thin plastic cups as the two brawling hockey players roll their way across the ice, leaving a trail of discarded pads behind them. 

“Oh goodness, what’s going--” She trails off into a groan as the fight escalates, players from across the ice congregating to the boards right in front of Tall Asshole and his Exceptionally Tall friends, who are pressed against the glass, cheering them on.

Finn throws his hands up in the air. “Aw,  _ come on! _ ”

“This is so unfair,” Rey fumes. “This is the only chance we’ll ever get to see a game like this, and this dickwad is blocking the entire thing!”

“He probably has season tickets too. He looks like the type,” Finn adds. “Probably only makes it to a couple of games a year.”

The  _ nerve _ . Rolling up her sleeves, she cups her hands around her mouth and screams, “TALL ASSHOLES IN THE FRONT! SIT YOUR ASSES DOWN!”

_ That  _ gets their attention, at least. The tallest one, a broad shouldered brunet in a vintage Richard jersey, turns back to them, dark eyes glittering. His colleague, a thin redhead in an ill-advised number 33, wrinkles his nose and shouts back, “TA YEULE,  _ stupid bitch! _ ”

Rey flips him off.

The blonde, who is indeed female, flashes them a dirty look, then rolls her eyes and focuses back on the fight happening right under her nose. The redhead loses interest as well, leaving only the brunet, whose stare remains fixed on Rey. 

Her gut clenches. It’s unexpectedly hot, the way he’s focusing on her as the crowd goes wild around them. She stands her ground, tilting her chin up and glaring at him with as much ire as she can muster. He gives her a wolfish grin back, not angry at all, just intrigued.

_ Probably wondering how drunk I have to be to provoke three giant Habs fans while wearing a crappy Leafs jersey _ , she muses.   

The ref and linesmen turn a blind eye for the requisite few minutes of fighting until there’s a smear of blood on the ice, and then everyone’s being pulled off of each other and a couple of majour penalties are called. Two red jerseyed Canadiens players are sent to the box amidst a chorus of booing and screaming then through it all, a fat man seated behind Rey, sweating and double fisting beer, bellows, “ _ VAS TE CROSSER AVEC UNE POIGNÉE DE CLOUS ROUILLÉS, REF! TABERNAK!!!” _

The crowd loses it. There’s three and a half minutes to the end of the second period, and Bell Centre has transformed into a roiling thunderdome of rage. Rey clutches Finn’s arm, ducking as more watery beer sloshes in their general direction, buffered by a tumultuous roar of endless Québécois profanity. 

Through it all, Rey spots something miraculous. “There’s no line,” she breathes.

Finn looks at her like she’s sprouted a second head. “What?”

She points up, past the rows of seats behind them into the concourse. “At the chicken strip place. There’s no line.”

“You want chicken strips? Now? They’re like fifty bucks!”

“I don’t care; I’m  _ hungry. _ ” Her stomach growls on cue and she frowns at him, pointedly.

He stares at her gut, then back at her face. “Fine, it’s your funeral. And rent money,” he adds.

Rey considers herself a fairly reasonable person, but if there’s one blind spot for her rationality, it’s food. Being bounced around the system did a number on her nutrition so, as an adult, she tries to keep herself well fed at every opportunity. During the last intermission, she only made it halfway up the line before the second period started, and her stomach’s protests indicate that it’s not going to tolerate that level of failure again. 

Curling in on herself, she sneaks through the crowd, mumbling a chorus of ‘sorrys’ as she goes. Luckily, almost everyone is on their feet, angrily screaming at the referee staff, which makes it a lot easier to pass by unscathed. In record time, she darts up to the chicken strip kiosk and proudly orders, “Three strips please!”

The unimpressed teenager behind the counter snaps his gum against his teeth, and drawls, “That’ll be seven minutes. I gotta stick some fresh ones in the fryer.”   


“Yeah, yeah sure. I can wait,” Rey responds, breathlessly. 

The teenager looks past her. “You want strips too?”

“Yes, please,” a deep voice responds from above Rey’s head. She turns around and--

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

The man behind her who is,  _ of course _ , that same tall, brunet, Richard loving asshole from before, does a double take. “Hey, it’s you!”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Rey spits. “Guess who’s in front now, asshole?”

His face twists in confusion. “Wow, you’ve got quite a mouth on you, eh? What’s your deal?”

“My  _ deal? _ ” She spins around to face him, her eyes flashing with anger. “My  _ deal _ is that my friend and I are stuck staring up at the fucking Jumbotron to catch the game because you and the other Three Stooges are blocking our view!”

“Whoa, calm down.” His holds his hands up in front of him. “Language! There’s kids here.”

Her eyebrows fly up to her hairline. “Did you just  _ hear  _ what that guy said earlier? Like any kids here are going to be traumatized by me saying the word ‘fuck’.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to use it constantly.”

Feeling pedantic, Rey reaches out and pokes his hands with an outstretched finger. “Fuck.” She lets the word roll off of her tongue as she savours every letter. “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck.”

The man lets out a snort of frustration, then grabs her finger in one of his large fists and uses it to tug her gently towards him. “You need to shut your yappy mouth before I shut it for you,” he snarls.

Rey’s heart stutters at the contact, but she doesn’t let it reach her face. “Ahhh, I see,” she says with an over exaggerated sigh. “The reason you can’t sit down is because you’ve got a giant stick shoved up your ass.”

His lips thin. “If you don’t shut up, by the end of the night you’re going to find something else shoved up your ass.”

Her eyes sparkle. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

His thumb rubs up against the tip of her finger. “It can be either. Up to you.”

Even though she could only afford one cup, and she’s sure it’s heavily watered down, Rey swears it’s the beer talking when she blurts out, “Let’s make a bet.” She yanks her finger from his fist and pokes the appliquéd Canadiens logo on his chest. “You guys win, you can do the shoving. My guys win,  _ I’m _ the one doing the shoving.”

“The sho--” The stranger hovers his hands over her shoulders, like he’s about to fall over and needs something to hold onto. “Wait, you’re serious? Are you saying--?”

“Yup.” 

“So you want me to--?”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I said. I said, if your guys  _ win. _ ”

“Yeah I got that. And if the Leafs win, then you’ll...” A scarlet flush flares on his cheeks, and he  _ smiles _ .

Rey blinks, suddenly aware that she’s in the middle of the most bizarre conversation of her life. She could back down, but then she just  _ knows _ she’ll have to deal with the guy’s mocking stare for the rest of the game.

Plus his pink cheeks. They’re doing  _ something _ to her, low in the pit of her stomach and warm between her legs. “Y-yeah,” she stammers. “If they win, then I’ll…”

The guy tilts his head, examining her. She squirms under his gaze as his eyes scan her disheveled hair, blushing face, and rumpled Leafs jersey. “Are you drunk?” he asks, concerned.

Her eyes burn with righteous anger. “I’m not  _ fucking _ drunk! I don’t have enough money to get drunk here; the beer is like fifteen fucking dollars.” 

“Sorry!” he chuckles. “It’s just not everyday that I’m approached by some hot angry chick who wants me to fuck her in the ass. Or vice versa.”

“Language,” she mocks. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she squares her shoulders and taunts, “Well, I wouldn’t have made the offer if I knew you were such a pussy.”

“A  _ pussy _ ?”

“You haven’t accepted the bet yet. Because you’re too chickenshit.”

“You’re calling  _ me _ chickenshit?”

“Yeah. They should chop you up and fry you behind the counter.”

“That doesn’t make any-- _ fine. _ ” He sticks his hand out for her to shake. “I accept your bet.”

Still in disbelief that the conversation is actually happening, Rey grabs his hand and gives it what she hopes is an impressively firm shake. “Deal.”

“Cool.” He holds on for a moment, this time rubbing his thumb against her knuckles. She stares up at his face, struck with the need to actually  _ look _ at the guy she’s made this insane bet with. 

He looks...fine.  _ Nice,  _ even, especially for a guy who insists on blocking everyone’s view in thousand dollar seats at a hockey game.  

_ And who makes anal sex bets with strangers _ , her brain helpfully reminds her but, surprisingly, he seems perfectly normal and not freaky or perverted at all. Just a bit taller than average, broad, and in possession of a shy, genuine smile full of adorably crooked teeth.

“Just wondering,” he muses, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “You’re aware that the Habs are up seven to three versus the Leafs, right?”

Rey is not aware of that fact. “Of course,” she says, a bit shriller than she anticipated. “But I think they’re going to pull it together tonight.”

At that moment, their conversation is punctuated by the announcer screaming “LE BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT!” The crowd screams with joy.

“Canadiens are up one-zip,” he murmurs.

“That means  _ nothing! _ ”

“Right.” He grins, wryly, then dips his hands into his pocket and produces a fifty dollar bill. Leaning a bit over her shoulder, he tosses it onto the counter, right next to two envelopes of piping hot chicken strips.

“I’ve got hers too,” he says to the stone faced teenager behind the counter. He grabs his chicken, then nods at Rey. “My name’s Ben, by the way. Have a fun time watching the rest of the game.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Enjoy  _ sitting  _ while you still can.”

“I’m Rey! And back at you!” she yells after him as he retreats back into the stands. Flustered, she turns back to the counter, and splutters, “How long have you been standing there?”

The teen rolls his eyes. “Long enough.”

“Oh my God.” Rey looks around, wondering when security is going to make their appearance. They’ll have to drag her out with her chicken strips in hand; they smell  _ so  _ good fresh from the fryer. “Well, um, sorry about that.”

“Oh don’t be sorry.” The teenager rings up their orders, deposits the fifty in the till, and pockets the change. “After all, it’s not  _ my _ asshole on the line.”

*

The Leafs  _ destroy _ the Canadiens.

Price gets beaned in the mask by a rogue slapshot and gets stretchered off the ice, Niemi (obviously caught unawares) flops around like a dead fish, and Matthews ends the night with a hat trick. As the hats are flying through the air, Rey glances down at the front row, sure that Ben the cocky Habs fan might try to avoid his bet, but instead of hiding he just locks eyes with her and winks.

“Oh my god,” she groans, burying her face in her hands.

“What’s wrong?” Finn yells over the booing crowd.

“I’m going to have to fuck that guy.”

“ _ What?” _

“That asshole in the front row. We made a bet, and I said if the Leafs won I would fuck him.”

“Why the he—“ He ducks, narrowly avoiding getting smacked in the head by a flying trucker hat. “—why the hell would you make that bet if you didn’t want to have sex with him? Did he force you? Do we have to beat him up?”

“No,  _ no,  _ it’s not like that.” Rey leans over, conspiratorially. “It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with him, it’s that I said I would fuck him if the Leafs won.”

Finn’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, you said that, but I still don’t get—“

“ _ I  _ would fuck  _ him _ .” She nods her head once, to emphasize.

“You would fu- _ oh! Ohhhhhh.”  _ The five stages of grief run rampant across his face, twisting his expressions until he finally lands on a small, soft grin of acceptance. “Ohhhhhhhhh. Have you--I mean, I didn’t know you  _ did _ that?”

Her cheeks flush. “I don’t, I-I’ve thought about it though. A lot.”

She’s done more than think about it, if the soft leather harness in her bedside table has anything to say for it, but she’s never actually  _ done _ it before. As in, with another person. Even by herself, she’s only managed to wear the damn thing twice, and both times she pulled it off after only a couple minutes, blushing furiously.

“So, how are you gonna do it?” Finn wonders. “Like, logistically. Because if you do it from behind, you’re going to look like squirrel humping a moose.”

“I don’t  _ know _ ,” she snaps back. “I’ve always just assumed I’d...well…”

Truthfully, she’s always just assumed that her pegging activities would strictly reside in her imagination only, but she’s not ready to admit that, especially when the subject of her first potential real life pegging is currently jogging up the stands to meet them. 

“Hi,” Ben says once he reaches them. 

Rey gulps, and smiles back. “Hi.”

“ _ Heyyyyy _ .” Finn grins with the subtlety of a bag of hammers. “Good game, eh?”

“Well, I mean, I guess.” Ben gestures awkwardly at Finn’s Leafs jersey. “You must be happy with it.”

“Nah, I couldn’t give a fuck about the Leafs. Rey was just wanting to troll everyone.I’m Finn, by the way.” He offers his hand, which Ben shakes. Satisfied with his grip, Finn turns to Rey. “So I was going to stop by the dep for some wine before I head over to Poe’s. You coming?”

It’s an out, which Rey appreciates. Usually, she’s the one initiating this routine between the two of them. “No, no, I think Ben and I had plans. Right Ben?”

“Right.” Ben’s  _ glowing _ , staring at her like she’s just agreed to give him the entire galaxy.

Finn bites his lip and nods. “Okay then. Well, if that’s the case, Ben, I’m going to have to see your license.”

Ben tilts his head, confused. “My what?”

“Your li-cense,” Finn enunciates. “Your driver’s license? Unless you don’t have one.”

“No, no, I have one.” Ben digs around in his pockets and pulls out a leather wallet, which he flips open and shows to Finn. 

The other man pulls out his phone, and takes a quick picture. “Just got your face and details.” He shows his screen to Ben. “You approve?”

“Yep.”

“Cool. Alright, g’night Rey.” He leans over and kisses her on the cheek. “You kids have fun, eh?”

“Thanks  _ dad _ ,” she responds, giving him a quick hug. 

He mouths  _ “text me” _ before nodding at Ben and taking off through the stands, leaving the two of them standing awkwardly together.

Ben stuffs his wallet back into his pocket. “That’s pretty smart. The licence thing. Can’t be too safe these days.”

“Yeah, thought to be honest it’s usually the other way around.” Rey laughs. “I probably have a dozen pictures of random licenses on my phone. Finn’s a popular guy.”

“Good for him.” Chewing on his lip, Ben looks over at the nearest exit, which is still swarming with retreating fans. “So, did you drive here, or--?”

“I took the Metro. I live in Mont-Royal, so I don’t have a car.”

“Cool.” He fiddles with the hem of his jersey for a minute, then gestures randomly. “I drove here, but I can take the Metro with you, if you--”

“No, that’s fine, you can drive. If you don’t mind,” she adds.

“No, no I don’t. If you’re cool, then--” He swallows. “--I’m cool too.”

“We would need to go to my place,” she continues, staring up at the Jumbotron to avoid fixating on the way he keeps licking his lips, like she’s inviting him over for a gourmet feast. “Because I have the...you know, unless you have--”

“No, no I don’t. Right. Cool.” Nervously, he scratches the back of his neck. “As long as you’re okay with it.”

It’s intimidating, the thought of him in her tiny shoebox apartment with its peeling paint and drafty windows. She knows almost nothing about him, but he looks and smells like the type of guy who probably owns a heritage home on Lexington Avenue that he shares with his mama. 

But he wants her, and he wants this, and despite her previous anger with him, he’s been quite sweet and respectful so far. Locking eyes with him, she smiles and whispers, “I’m more than okay.”

They manage to make it out to the parkade unscathed. Rey marvels at how the crowd seems to part for Ben, allowing them to get out in record time. The air is crisp enough that her nose hairs freeze as soon as they exit the arena, and she shoves her hands into her pockets as Ben leads her to a sleek black car parked at the front of the parkade.

“This is me,” he says, and Rey nearly  _ dies _ of anxiety when he opens the door to reveal buttery leather seats and a pristine interior.

“Is it new?” she asks, like an  _ idiot _ . A poor, ramen eating, dep wine drinking, student loan taking  _ idiot _ , if his surprised expression has anything to say for it.

“No,” he responds. “I’m just clean.”

“Oh.” 

She pulls her coat tightly around herself as he pulls out of the parkade. “Just pop your address in,” he instructs, nodding at the console. 

She does, then waits for him to say something, to realize that she’s obviously too poor for someone like him to have sex with, but all he does is nod and switch his radio to ICI Musique.

Smooth jazz filters through the speakers for a few minutes before he speaks. “Thanks, for being cool with this,” he says. “I’ve never really encountered someone who’s been open about doing this. With me, that is.”

“Why’s that?”

“Don’t know.” He takes in a huff of air, and then glances over at her. “Actually, I do know. Other partners...I-I guess they’re not expecting me to want it because of how I look?”

She takes a moment to look at him,  _ really _ look at him. At his broad shoulders and ill-fitting jeans and the way his Richard jersey pulls across his chest. “I see it,” she admits. “You look like the kind of guy they want pounding them, not the other way around.”

Sheepishly, he fixes his eyes back on the road. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, if it means anything, I’ve never been with anyone who’s been open to...receiving. I don’t know, I don’t think it’s that weird, but the couple of times I’ve brought it up with guys, they’ve acted all disgusted, like I’m insinuating they’re gay or something.”

Ben chuckles. “Wanting to be fucked by a beautiful woman is the epitome of being gay. Sure.”

“That’s what I would say!” she says, laughing along with him. “Honestly, I felt so alone.”

She feels the warm slide of his hand against her leg. He squeezes, and she looks over at him. “You’re not alone,” he rumbles.

Giving him a soft smile, she rests her hand on his. “Neither are you.”

The rest of the drive is uneventful, aside from Ben’s white knuckled attempts to parallel park in her neighbourhood. She digs around in her coat pocket for her keys, a fresh wave of gut wrenching self-consciousness oozing through her as she watches Ben examine her apartment building. 

“Okay, um, here we go,” she mumbles, wrenching open the cracked glass door. The lobby smells of mud and memories of cigarettes, but he has the decency to smile at her. 

“So, uh, yeah. This is my place,” she stutters, unlocking the first door on the left.

He steps inside and takes it in; all 400 square feet or so of mottled tile floors, carpet, and beige paint. It’s a studio, with a modest galley kitchen, closet sized bathroom, tiny balcony, and a queen sized bed shoved up against the back wall.

“It’s nice,” he murmurs, nodding. “Nice neighbourhood. You speak--?”

“French? No.” She locks the door behind her. “The place was cheap, and the landlord was willing to rent to me sight unseen.” She runs her finger along the kitchen tap and winces at the dust. “It makes shopping a bit difficult, but I manage. You?”

“Hm?”

“You speak French?”

He wiggles his fingers. “ _ Un petit peu _ . I was in immersion all through elementary and high school, which is what got me into the grad program here, but I’m not great.” He shrugs, smiling crookedly. “I manage.”

“Great. Awesome.” She shrugs, feeling more awkward by the second. “Would you like some tea?”

“Tea?”

“Yeah?”

“Now?”

“Or..after.” Her voice squeaks. “It’s up to you. Whatever you want.”

He waves his hands in the general direction of her bathroom. “I was kind of wondering if I could have a shower? That is, if we’re still planning on--”

“Of course!” Rey busies herself with bustling over to her tiny linen closet. She tugs a fresh towel free from the stack, and pushes it into his arms, expertly averting her eyes from his face. “You can just, uh, there’s soap and stuff in there.”

“Hey.” All of a sudden he’s up against her, not touching her, but close enough that she can feel his warmth through her shirt. “Are you okay with all of this? You seem-”

“Yeah I’m great!” She gives him a smile that she hopes seems natural but is pretty sure makes her look deranged. “I’m just...nervous, that’s all.”

“Oh good. Me too.” He shrugs. “I don’t do this often.”

“Me neither,” she blurts out. “Actually, I’ve never--”

He steps back, shocked. “Wait, you’ve never had sex?”

“What? What, no that’s not what I meant. Like I said before, I’ve never actually--” She lets her voice trail off, and halfheartedly thrusts her hips a few times until he catches on. “I mean, I’ve thought about it. A lot. I’ve bought the equipment. I’ve...fantasized about it, and I’m really excited, but I’m just nervous, that’s all. Sorry...I’m babbling.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Now he rests his hands on her shoulder and squeezes, gently. “I’m nervous too. Super nervous. What I meant earlier...I don’t have sex often. Any kind of sex. I have a hard time compartmentalizing or something.” His lips twist. “My therapist is better at explaining it.”

“Oh.” Rey chews her cheek. “Is this okay for you then? I didn’t even think to ask.”

“No, no it’s great. I’ve thought about this a lot too.” He blushes again, high and rosey on his cheeks. “It’s just-- I should warn you that I may...say things during sex. It’s one of the reasons why I...don’t tend to have sex. Often.”

“Say things?” She grins. “You mean, like you’re going to call me a dirty bitch or whatever?”

His blush deepens to a lush crimson. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I’ve had it happen before, no big deal.” She waves it off, smiling. “It’s good to feel free when you have sex, and I’m totally okay with you saying whatever.”

“Yeah?” He perks up. “Well then, I guess it’s time for me to get cleaned up.”

Dropping a quick peck on her forehead, he pops into her bathroom and closes the door behind him. Once she hears the soft  _ click  _ of the latch, Rey descends into a full on panic, chewing on her cuticles nervously as she paces in front of her bed.    


“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” she breathes with every gasp of her lungs. 

It’s not a  _ bad _ panic, per say (as if any panic could be considered positive). If anything, it’s more like a mania, like liquid stress and excitement have been dumped into her veins in equal measure. She’s just imagined this scenario for so long, but never really considered that it could be a possibility. Her hands shake as she pries open her bedside table and digs through the junk within until she unearths them: her slim, fleshtone Feeldoe and soft leather harness.

“You can do this.” Methodically, she adjusts the shiny O-ring to accommodate her toy then, before she loses her nerve, she strips to her bra, groans as she inserts the small end of the dildo into her, buckles on the harness, then tightens it until the leather sits comfortably flush against her skin.

The weight of it is  _ something _ . Even though it’s modestly sized, the heft of the dildo makes her posture change. She gives an experimental thrust and shivers when the end inside of her wiggles with the momentum of the bobbing shaft. 

She hears the shower turn off after a minute or so. Bracing herself, she turns to face the bathroom just as the door opens and a wet, towel wearing Ben steps out. 

He stops in his tracks. “Wow, that’s-”

Her heart stutters and, instinctively, she covers her package with her hands. “I, uh, I didn’t know whether I should just—“

“No, it’s—“ He ducks his face, immediately bashful. “—it’s  _ super _ hot, I...wow.”

“Really?” she breathes.

“Yeah.”

Then he lets the towel drop to the ground, and she  _ really  _ sees how hot he finds it. 

“You-ah, yes, I see, uh--” Rey tears her eyes away from his crotch. “I-ah...how? Would you--?” She waves her hands at the bed, Finn’s comment about a squirrel humping a moose surfacing fresh in her mind. 

He grins and stalks towards her, his cock bobbing slightly with every stop. “How about I just kiss you first?”

“K-kiss me?”

“Yeah?” He slides a huge, warm hand up her cheek and lets his fingernails drag lightly against her scalp. “Is it okay for me to kiss you?”

She shivers as warm tingles creep down her neck and fan over her shoulders. “Yes, yes, of course.”

He steps even closer. “You sure?” he breathes against her mouth.

She licks her lips. “Positive.”

The first brush of his mouth against hers is light, tentative. The antithesis of the moment, with his broad body and needy cock pressed against her, the head of her dildo nudged into his thigh. It’s sweet, like a first kiss at a high school dance, until Rey pushes herself up onto her tiptoes and drags her tongue against his upper lip.  

He groans into her mouth as his fingers dig into her hair. He’s trembling against her, so obviously craving her featherlight touches. His desperation rushes into her veins like heroin; he  _ wants _ her, he  _ needs _ her, he hasn’t been able to get this from anyone else and now he’s here in her shitty studio apartment and practically begging her for this. 

It’s different from her previous sexual encounters. Other partners have enjoyed sex with her, pleasured her, been pleasured by her, but it almost seemed perfunctory, like they were each scratching an itch that the other person couldn’t reach on their own. With Ben, it’s immediately apparent that this is something different. His fingers are trembling, and his eyes keep peeking open to stare at her body, at the strap on and, most often, her face. Open adoration is painted on his features with an earnestness that should be foreign to what is ultimately an anger fueled, bet based hookup. 

And for Rey, who has been steeping in loneliness since childhood, the fantasy of having this forever is too tempting to let go. 

“Bed,” she gasps into his mouth, pushing him back with her clammy fingers pressed against his chest. He obliges and drops faithfully onto her mattress, which squeaks with protest under his large frame. 

Determinedly, she drops to her knees, rests her hands on his thighs, and runs her tongue up his cock from base to tip. He whines and braces himself as she gently takes him into her mouth, slow and steady, pumping his shaft a couple of times with her right hand as her left begins to trail lower. 

“Is this okay?” she murmurs with his tip against her lips. “May I touch you...here?”

She brushes her fingers against his balls.

“I... _ Rey _ ...I...ah, ah.” He swallows. “ _ Yes. _ ”

“Good.” She starts off with light touches, then firmer as she starts to explore the soft skin below. He squirms deliciously under her touches, panting like he’s running a marathon, and her heart is so full, so thrilled because it’s  _ finally _ happening, she’s finally going to--

Then her finger grazes his ass and... _ fuck _ .

_ Fuck. _

“U-um Ben?” she whispers.

“U- _ huh _ ?” is his strangled reply.

“Um.” She pauses, mortified. “C-can you pass me the lube? I forgot to grab it and I-uh--”

He’s silent, and she half expects him to just stand up and walk out the door because she was so  _ stupid _ , but then he takes a steady breath and reaches out his hand to rummage around her still open bedside drawer. 

“Is this it?” he pants, holding up a bottle.

She groans. “No, that’s my hand sanitizer.”

He laughs, and tosses it at her. “What about this?”

She breathes out a sigh of relief. “Yes, could you please--”

He tosses it as well. It lands at her knee and she grabs it, then winces. “It’s cold.”

He laughs again. “Yup.” 

“I’ll just--” She tucks the bottle in between her thighs, wedging it under the stiff length of her strap-on, then turns her attention back to his softening dick. “Shit. I’m sorry, I’m so stupid.”

There’s a rustle of the blankets as Ben hoists himself up onto his elbows and gazes at her, his big brown eyes soft and concerned. “Hey, hey...no you’re not. You’re doing a great job. This is great.”

She feels the panic begin to bubble up from her chest. “No it’s not! I’m such a mess. You should- you should be doing this with someone who knows what to do, I’m just--”

“Hey.” His voice is firmer now. He scrambles up to face her and cups her chin in his hand. “If I tell you it’s great, then it’s great. I’m not lying to you just to make you feel better.” He strokes her lips with his thumb, and manages to coax out a small smile from her despondent face. “I want this,” he maintains. “I want  _ you _ . No one else.”

“Okay.” She hates how small and shaky her voice sounds. 

Ben leans over and captures her mouth with his. Again, the kiss is more than it needs to be, full of promise and longing and something intangibly deep that screams of forever. He holds on a bit longer than expected and follows her just a bit as she pulls away.

“Okay, back to business,” she says, pushing him back down. 

She resumes her exploration of his body with hesitant touches and a firm grip on his hardening dick. Ben is more encouraging now, with whispered ‘ _ yes _ es’ and groans of appreciation that give her the strength to work through her nervousness.

With one hand, she pops the lube open and drips the now warm liquid onto her fingers. “Hey Ben,” she purrs. “Tell me...have you done this before?”

She trails a wet finger over his hole, and he  _ jumps _ .

“To yourself?” Emboldened, she swirls around it a couple of times and then just  _ barely _ eases the tip inside. “You were probably so nervous at first, to touch yourself here.”

She pauses for a response, but all he can make out is a weak sounding moan.

Nudging in a bit further into his warmth, she continues. “Probably felt so dirty, but also  _ so good _ that you couldn’t stop once you started. Just addicted to the way it felt when you pressed down  _ here. _ ”

She nervously applies a bit of pressure to the firm ball of tissue she’s encountered that she  _ hopes  _ is his prostate, and is rewarded when he almost leaps off of the bed.

“I love how I’m the first person to touch you here,” she murmurs, easing in a second finger. “I love how open you’re getting, and how you’re squirming for me.”

“P-please,” he breathes. “Please keep going, please, you’re so good to me R-rey,  _ please.” _

His cock is flagging and forgotten on his abdomen, but he doesn’t seem to mind as long as she keeps dragging her curious fingers inside his ass. “Are you almost ready?” she asks as she tries out a third finger, conscious of the slim girth of her dildo. “Do you think you can take me?”

“Yesssss,” he hisses. “Yes, please Rey, please fuck me,  _ please. _ ”

“So polite.” Climbing up onto the bed, she lines up the head of the toy with his ass and slowly,  _ slowly _ eases her way in.

“Oh gosh,” he gasps, voice trembling. “Oh  _ my-- _ ”

She scrapes her nails against his inner knee, and he  _ shudders. “ _ You still okay, big guy?”

“Mmhmm. Just...so good.” She draws her hips back again, and he moans. “You make me feel so fucking good, fuck.”

“Back at you.” 

Well, maybe not  _ as _ good as he feels in the moment, but she’s always known that the thrill of this act isn’t in the direct stimulation she receives. The stretch of the bulb inside her pales in comparison to the sight of Ben flush with a sheen of sweat illuminating the planes of his body, his hair fanned on her threadbare pillow as he groans in time with her thrusts.   

“Hey Ben.”

He pries his eyelids up, and she swears she can see the stars reflected in his blown out pupils. Locking eyes, she thrusts up into the spot that makes him moan, and commands, “Watch me as I fuck you, Ben.”

“B-but Rey, I--” He tosses his head back and she  _ growls _ . “R-rey, so beautiful, so perfect,” he babbles, words spilling over his swollen lips. “Y-you...I can’t b-believe you want this, you want me...R-rey,  _ please _ \--”

“Please  _ what _ , Ben?”

“Please, please  _ don’t stop _ .”

She drives herself deeper and pauses to rest a hand on his quivering abs. “Don’t stop?”

He groans. “No,  _ please _ .”

“Please?”

“ _ God _ , Rey, Rey, Rey, I’ll do anything.” His massive hands scrape against her duvet as he scrambles for leverage, pinned to the bed by her slender hips. His face is a masterpiece of desperation, painted by her thumb against his hipbone and her cock in his ass. 

She drags her hips back, then slowly sinks back in, and his mouth drops open in a wordless moan. It’s so beautiful,  _ he’s  _ so beautiful. He’s all she’s ever dreamed about, carved from her greatest fantasies and then some. “Tell me you’ll stay with me,” she hears herself say. “Tell me you’ll never leave me.”

The demands escape her mouth before she’s able to reel them back in but, to his credit, Ben doesn’t even pause before blurting, “Yes, I’ll s-stay, yes,  _ please _ Rey. N-no one has ever m-made me feel this  _ good _ .”

She resumes her punishing pace as his promises roar in her ears. Her thighs are screaming for respite, but she can’t stop now, not when the words she’s always dreamt of hearing are falling from his lips like rain quenching a sandy desert.

“N-no one...no one else...n-never. So perfect. Perfect for  _ me.  _ Everything I’ve ever- _ nnnngh _ , ever wanted, please,  _ please _ \--”

His neglected cock is leaking pearlescent dribbles of precum on his belly. Heated by his flushed skin, it’s melting into glistening trails down the sides of his abdomen and pooling into the cover of her duvet. She can tell he’s close by the sheen of scarlet travelling down from his blushing cheeks and over his chest, and by the way he’s now reduced to babbling nonsense as his eyes remain locked on hers, so she reaches in front of her and pumps his dick once, twice--

His mouth drops open, eyes go wide, and he’s entirely silent as he comes with enough force to spray his belly, chest, and the bottom of his chin with ropes of his spend. He gasps for air and then,  _ and then _ :

“I-I love you,  _ love you _ , I love you  _ so much Rey, fuck _ \--”

Her heart skips a beat. She’s never heard those words, not associated with her name, and definitely not in that tone of voice. It’s all she’s ever wanted, and yet it’s strangely way too much for her to hear right now. 

She pulls out of him and quickly undoes her harness with shaking fingers, then tosses it aside and clambers onto his body and he continues to gasp, “ _ P-please,  _ I love you, I love you  _ so much _ \--”

She feels walls of her apartment start to close in around her as she braces herself against her headboard and presses her pussy against his lips. Strong hands grip her ass, and she  _ knows  _ he’s still saying those words against her, but it’s okay because instead of feeling scared and confused, all she can feel is the white hot bolt of pleasure that almost slices her in two as she cums against his mouth. 

He continues licking her with indulgent lazy strokes until her thighs stop shaking then, together, they maneuver her so she’s lying down next to him on the bed. Initially she’s silent, still processing that that was an actual real life experience she just had and not just a crazy trip triggered by her hotboxing next door neighbour. She just...did that, with  _ him _ , and he said all those things, and,  _ and-- _

What ultimately pulls her back down to Earth is the feeling of Ben’s nose nuzzling into the soft skin behind her ear and the rumbling purr of contentment emanating from his chest.

“That was  _ amazing _ ,” he breathes. “You were amazing.”

“Really?” Her voice sounds small again, incongruous with the thrusting sex goddess of minutes prior. 

“Really.” His nuzzling pauses. “You’re tense. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.”

He sighs. “Is this about what I said? Because if so, I--”

“It’s fine,” she maintains, voice firm, because she can’t hear his explanation. She’s already too open and exposed and confused about what happened, and the swirling mix of endorphins and hormones in her system are not helping.

_ Yes, I’ll stay with you. _

_ You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. _

_ I love you, Rey. _

Either he had meant everything, which is too much,  _ too soon,  _ or he meant none of it at all, which would feel like another nail in the coffin of her heart. She feels the urge to board up her feelings, to construct a wall around herself brick by brick, to run out the door and never come back, but this is  _ her  _ apartment, and he’s still here, warm and solid and steady beside her. 

So instead of letting him continue, she reaches over the side of the bed and grabs her Leafs jersey, and uses it to sop up their sweat and cum from his skin and her duvet. “There,” she says, brandishing the sloppy, stained fabric it in front of him. “Better?”

He grins and squeezes her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Yeah,” he mumbles into her hair. “I guess it is good for something after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please stay tuned for my next two prompts: **Government Mandated Bilingual Packaging** and **Gender Swap AU**


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